Old grudges
Old grudges wrath stories
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jackwainwright
jackwainwright Conceited as they come.
Autoplay OFF   •   3 years ago
What it says on the tin

Old grudges

Rage writ in litany,

This beast she stands,

She spits on me,

High above the lowly sands.

Lies leave her lips,

They shame me,

Before the gaze of where my friend sits,

Her pride grows like a tree.

Ones own sin,

To wear the crown,

To mistreat ones own kin,

She always reminds us that we are down.

Like pebbles,

She tosses me aside,

Like trebbles,

My blood boiling inside.

My own pride is my own rage, and hers her walls. It’s ice cold now, but revenge it seems, still calls.

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